High Hurdles (32 page)

“ ’Cause elephants gots red pennies.”

DJ rolled her eyes. She tried again. “Tennies, B,
tennies
.”

“ ’Cause the tree gots tennies.”

The other B laughed so hard he fell off his chair.

“You okay?” DJ leaned down and helped him up.

“Tennies in the tree! Elephants wear red tennies in the cherry tree so we can see ’em.” He looked up at her to make sure he had gotten it right.

In shifting from one twin to the other, DJ caught a glimpse of her mother’s face. Lindy wore a half smile, the polite kind, the kind that DJ knew meant her mother was only half there. The rest of her was probably selling more guns to the police departments or planning her thesis.

What she wasn’t doing was having fun.

“Can I be excused?” DJ pushed her chair back from the table. “Come on, guys. I’ll race you to the road and back.”

DJ hoped the breeze in her hair and on her face would blow away the anger she felt toward her mother right now. Why couldn’t she laugh at a little joke? Just to be part of the group. It wasn’t as if her mother didn’t know how.
Maybe she didn’t get the joke. Or maybe she’s a snob
. The thoughts raced through DJ’s mind as her feet pounded the gravel.

Careful to keep even with the running boys, she reached down for their hands, and together the three sprinted the last few yards.

“I won.”

“No, me!”

“Hey, guys, we all won.” That was the way it was supposed to be, wasn’t it? Everyone winning?

DJ tickled one twin and then the other. “Race you back to the house.” They darted off and she followed, this time letting them win by a jump or two.

Before falling asleep that night, DJ looked up at the poster of the Olympic rider and horse clearing the jump and prayed, “God, I really need a way to stop my mom and Robert from getting married. A plan with a capital
P
.” She tacked another line on to her prayer to cover all the bases. “And, God, please help my mother to laugh. She wouldn’t even smile at the elephant jokes.”

Did God really have a plan in all this?

Chapter
•
7

Two weeks passed and still DJ had no plan.

Worse yet, Tony Andrada continued making life at the Academy miserable for all of them. DJ felt as though something in her life wasn’t working—like everything. On top of all that, she’d been notified that she had received only an honorable mention in the art contest.

“What’s so great about an honorable mention?” she sighed to Amy.

“Most people would be pumped about an honorable mention.” Amy shook her head. “But not
my
friend.
My
friend likes only blue ribbons.”

“No, I’d take a purple rosette, too.” DJ licked the other side of her mocha almond fudge ice-cream cone. The two girls had bicycled down to the local shopping center for “some real food,” as DJ called it. Her mother was on a low-fat kick again and had only rabbit food in the house. Or at least, that’s what DJ called all the vegetables.

“Mom wants to lose weight, so I get to starve.” DJ took a bite of her sugar cone and closed her eyes in bliss. “Why don’t we go to the exhibit and see what kind of illustration took grand prize? I thought my horse was pretty good, and even Gran said I’d done well. You know what a perfectionist she is about artwork.”

“Okay, but how are we going to get there?”

“Bus. I could ask Gran, though. Maybe she’d like to see it, too—of course, she would, my picture’s hanging there,” DJ thought aloud.

“What about your mom?”

“Ha! You know she’s been to only one—no, make that two—of my horse shows since I began showing. What kind of a mother is she, anyway?”

“A busy one.” Amy finished her cone and tossed the wrapper into the trash.

“Your father goes to every show, and your mom makes most of them.” DJ leveled a look at her friend that dared her to get out of this one.

“I know. But my mom says it’s easier to make it to things like that when you’re a stay-at-home mother.”

“Yeah,
you
never have to come home to an empty house.”

“Sometimes I’d like to.” Amy shoved up the kickstand on her bike.

“Feel free to visit mine any day.”

“Mom won’t let me—there’s no adult there.” Amy tipped her head and licked her lips.

DJ knew the gesture meant Amy was trying to keep from laughing.

“See what I mean?”

“You know what it’s like at our house. You have to shout to make yourself heard. With four kids, I have to lock the bathroom door for some privacy—then John always has to go.”

DJ often dreamed of becoming a member of the Yamamoto clan. Having brothers and sisters around had always sounded neat.

Until now. Now brothers and sisters meant the Double Bs.

“You’re lucky to have an older brother.”

“You want him, you can have him.” Amy slung her leg over the bicycle. “You ready? I have to clean my room. With the show next weekend, I promised I’d do it today.”

DJ glanced up at the fading light. “You better hurry, the day’s about gone.”

“I know. You could come help me.”

DJ thought of the quiet house that awaited her. Lindy was off doing research to help her decide on a thesis topic. The note she’d left said she’d be home by dinner. She didn’t mention who was cooking it or eating it.

“Sorry, but I better not. I think I’m supposed to be at home or Gran’s.”

“You think?” The two pedaled side by side up the residential street.

“Well, you know . . . Mom and I haven’t been communicating much lately, at least not speaking. She writes me notes or leaves messages on the machine. Easier that way.”

“Is she coming to the horse show?”

“Dream on. It’s no big deal. When she is there, my butterflies invite all their friends in and have a party—at my stomach’s expense.” DJ kept pedaling and stretched her arms above her head. “Gran and Joe will be there, and they’re the ones who count.”

“You going to church with them in the morning?”

“Yep.”

“You could ride with us if you want.”

DJ sometimes wished her mother would come along, too, but Lindy used Sunday mornings to study. She said Gran could take care of the praying and churchgoing for their family. Lindy didn’t want to be bothered with it.

The message light blinked on the machine. “DJ, I’m at Robert’s. I’ll be home late. Robert would like us all to go to church together tomorrow, so tell Gran you’ll be going with us.”

“With us where? I don’t want to go to some strange church in the city. I like our church.” DJ slammed the replay button. The message sounded no better the second time.

I think I’ll go sleep with Major, that way I won’t have to go with anyone. What about my Sunday school class? Doesn’t my mother ever think of anyone but herself? Since when does she go to church? Just because Robert asked her?
DJ fussed and fumed until she climbed into bed.

“Great, she didn’t even mention what time we’re leaving.” DJ debated going downstairs and leaving a message on the machine herself, but instead she set her alarm for an early wake-up. She had to feed Major no matter what.

It wasn’t hard to pull off the silent act the next morning. By the time she returned from the Academy, Lindy was in a fit. DJ had barely ten minutes to get ready.

“And don’t you dare make us late,” Lindy yelled above the sound of the shower.

DJ soaped and rinsed as quickly as if she were a four-handed alien. There wasn’t time to wash her hair; she’d have to braid it in the car. Half dry, she dashed into her bedroom and into her underwear. Putting on a bra with a wet back wasn’t easy, but the real problem hit when she opened her closet: no dress pants. She’d forgotten to put her laundry in the dryer again.

“Mom, I’m gonna have to wear jeans,” she called, hunching her shoulders against the tirade she knew was coming, at the same time buttoning a teal blouse and adding a vest.

“Why can’t you at least dress up for church?” Lindy stopped in the doorway. “Where are all your good pants?”

“In the washing machine.”

“I can tell your chores are getting to be too much for you. You’ll just have to—”

The doorbell rang.

“We’ll discuss this later.” In her ivory silk suit and matching hat and shoes, Lindy looked as if she’d just stepped out of a Macy’s display window.

DJ grumbled under her breath, grabbed her suede shoes, and pounded down the hall. She snagged a brush and a hair band from the bathroom before leaping down the stairs. So she didn’t have dress pants on—she looked pretty good as far as she could tell. Jeans were always in style.

But they certainly weren’t her mother’s idea of a fashion statement.

The day went downhill from there. While the boys squirmed only a little during the opening prayer, they both let out soft whoops of joy when it came time for the children’s sermon and then children’s church.

Although the San Francisco church had beautiful stained-glass windows and a neat folk choir, DJ missed her Sunday school class.

At the restaurant where they went for brunch, Bobby—or was it Billy?—spilled his orange juice. While Lindy said it didn’t matter, the stain showed up bright orange on her silk skirt. DJ kept herself from laughing only through sheer strength of will.

As Robert scolded the culprit, DJ dropped her fork. Bending to retrieve it, she bumped her plate—which bumped her water goblet. The goblet tipped, and water spread across the tablecloth. For the second time that morning, Robert called the waiter for assistance.

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t dare look at her mother. The vibes coming across the table told her enough.

“Accidents will happen.” Robert tried to smooth things over.

Bobby sniffed on the chair beside DJ. Billy acted as though he’d been scolded, too.

As DJ had thought, silence was the best defense, or offense, as the case may be—in this case, anyway.

Telling Amy about it the next day, DJ couldn’t help but laugh. “My mother does
not
like scenes in restaurants or church or anywhere.”

“Did you drop your fork on purpose?”

“Gimme a break. Even I wouldn’t dare do something like that.”

“Did you ask her about the jumping clinic at Wild Horse Valley?”

“Fiddle. How could I forget something like that?” DJ shook her head. “I’m losing it, I tell you.” They hopped off their bikes as they arrived at the Academy. “I’ll ask tonight. We’re having dinner at Gran’s.”

“Mrs. Johnson wants you to show Patches next weekend,” Bridget informed DJ when she and Amy stopped in her office to say hello. “I said it was up to you.”

“You think he’s ready?” DJ picked at her fingernail.

“It would be good experience for both of you.”

“Sure then. Why not?”

“Joe found his cutting horse yet?” Bridget asked.

DJ shook her head.

“I got a call from a friend who has been keeping an eye out for one. I missed Joe when he was here today taking care of Major. I will give him a call.”

DJ flashed Amy a grin. “He’ll be thrilled. Where is it?”

“Sacramento.” Bridget shooed them out the door. “You two have work to do.”

Tony was already in the ring practicing when they walked past. The two girls stopped for a moment to watch. The boy and horse moved as if they were welded together.

DJ felt a surge of envy. Tony and his horse were already at level two in dressage, and she had barely begun. The horse floated around the ring, each leg extended and then placed with precision. Tony didn’t seem to move a muscle.

“It’s just not fair,” DJ muttered, turning to the barns. “Tony is such an excellent rider, and yet he’s meaner than a—”

“Rabid skunk?”

“Yeah, and twice as smelly.” DJ picked up her grooming bucket and headed for Patches’ stall. She had plenty of work to do if they were going to show.

“Major, you must be the most willing horse in the world,” DJ said later after putting the big bay through his paces. She leaned forward and rested her cheek on his mane, wrapping both arms around his neck. “You are so easy to love.”

“Now that’s as nice a picture as I have yet to see. Wish I had a camera so Melanie could paint you.”

“Hi, Joe.” DJ straightened to see her grandfather leaning against the aluminum fencing of the jumping arena. “You hear the news?”

“Sure enough. Think we could go over there and look at him this evening?”